


Questions

by I_See_The_Stars_15



Series: The Tales of Terror [4]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Creepy, Gen, Stalking, xB is a cryptid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28337082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_See_The_Stars_15/pseuds/I_See_The_Stars_15
Summary: xB is...an odd fellow to say the least. A man of many contradictions, of many unanswered questions.What is he hiding?
Series: The Tales of Terror [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993450
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Questions

Shattered Savannah biome, a base hovering menacingly in the sky. A village with trapped workers and a series of tunnels winding underground. Guardians in a pool in the air and pacified pillagers kept in modern-style run-down houses. Cracked blackstone roads lined with warped and crimson stems, shroomlights mingling with sea lanterns and torches. There's a story to be told here in this odd mixture of ideas, a story just waiting to be revealed. This place was a mystery waiting to be solved.

_What story do you want to tell, xBCrafted?_

He was quiet, conservative but had a lot to say. He was shy but suave, persuasive when he wanted to be. He was friendly but mischievous in a way that wasn’t too unusual with their group yet still wholly different. He was open with what he felt but secretive about what he did. He wanted the company of others but stayed farther away when everyone else clumped together. He said he liked the quiet yet always found himself involved in the plots of the whole server. He didn’t enjoy the crowded areas a lot but always found an excuse to stop a hermit and chat in the shopping district, to play a few minigames together around the world. He was a mystery overshadowed by his cryptic nature, by his unpredictability.

_Who are you really, xBCrafted?_

Now seemed to be one of those days he spent in solitude, working in his base instead of with others. War was brewing on the server, or perhaps it was already in full swing, and yet here he was strolling on worn-down pavements, feet hitting stone with quiet, deafening thuds. _Click, click, click_ went his shoes on the ground, and he whistled an impromptu tune to the beat. His steps were almost random, going this way and that without any logical direction. 

He entered his trading hall and stood amongst the villagers who grunted curiously. He watched them for a few minutes, head tilted in a silent question that was answered equally as quietly. A small smile, not unusual for him, briefly flitted across his face as he turned on his heels and walked away. He entered empty-handed and came away empty-handed, an odd thing to do surrounded by entities whose sole purpose was to provide. He merely stuffed his fists into empty pockets as he continued his stroll.

He entered the more ruined portion of his area, breathed in the smell of scalding heat replicated by the tall tree-like fungi sprouting from the ground. He entered a patch of shadow and looked up at what was meant to be his main storage area, looming in the sky. He pulled out a rocket and fiddled with the fuse, looking behind him as though checking for something. He gripped the string as though meaning to pull it and looked straight up at the sky. 

The next moment he shook his head and placed the rocket away. No noise, no commotion, nothing to indicate that something could have gone wrong.

He continued his walk as though nothing happened, as though he didn’t stand still in the middle of nothing for no reason. He observed each of the ruined buildings in silence except for that whistled tune hands constantly searching for something to hold yet seemingly finding nothing of value. He avoided each crack in the road, each pothole, almost as though this journey was familiar. He hasn’t worked on his base in a while, and it looked like he was inspecting the area for what he could add, for new ideas to throw into this already-random place. A hand on his chin and eyes closed, his whistling dying down into somber humming. His lips move quickly, muttering phrases that no one else could understand. When he opened his eyes again they were more focused, burning with intent. He stared at what was meant to be a ruined department store before turning away instead. He continued his almost-frantic musings under his breath, almost sounding like he was letting out quiet puffs of air each time he spoke.

_What are you saying, xBCrafted?_

His journey eventually led him to the entrance of what was meant to be an underground bunker; an homage to the post-apocalyptic theme this area started forming around. He started going down the tunnels, walking down barely-lit hallways. The gentle drip of water echoed around him in a way that should have been unnerving, but he didn’t do as much as shiver even as the temperature started dropping the deeper he went.

Indeed, deeper he went until the stone bricks made way to simple smooth stone, until the wide, gaping doorways shrunk and kept shrinking until he could barely fit. He took it all in stride, running a hand along the damp walls and traveling through multiple crossroads with ease. He went and turned around skillfully, even slipping his eyes shut as he let his feet take him to nowhere. It was winding and confusing and the tunnels soon started blending together but not once did he falter in his steps. He took his time yet he wasn’t slow or uncertain or unsteady. It seemed he knew where he was going to go, where he was meant to be.

_Where are you going, xBCrafted?_

He continued to let his hand brush against the walls as he went lower and deeper into the underground. He was approaching what looked to be a dead-end, a solid wall of unmined stone greeting him. He walked towards it, confident in his steps, his hand swaying back and forth until it caught on a barely noticeable bump.

A small, obscure button blending into its surroundings. The tell-tale click of it being pressed echoed in the tight hallways, but it was soon obscured by the sound of machinery, of pistons firing. The stone door slowly parted, moving aside to reveal a blinding white cubic room of quartz. He walked in time with the moving parts, entering just as it opens wide enough for him, and passing through just as the stone started moving back into place behind him. Everything was timed perfectly.

_What are you doing, xBCrafted?_

The room was bare except for the soft carpet beneath his feet. This time, he did pause for just a moment, gaze moving across the room. A second passes, then two, then three. He breathes in and takes a whiff of the smell of nothingness, a stark contrast to the smell of smoke above. 

He takes one step, then another. He paces around the room, both randomly and methodically. There was no sound pattern to his movements, yet he does them with utmost certainty and purpose. 

_Click_ , he takes a step forward. 

_Click_ , he moves to the right.

_Click_ , he turns to his left.

_Click_ , he stretches over to the block on his upper left. 

_Click, click, click_ he went until a louder snap filled the room. The walls shook, and the blue soul lantern that provided light above him wavered. He remained steady, hands once again in the pockets of his hoodie as he faced a wall that slowly crumbled in front of his eyes. As soon as it was gone he stepped through, being careful not to step on any other piece of wool. It was a defense system that put HEP’s to shame, and a vault door that would have made Mumbo proud. Except, of course, Mumbo would not be proud of what it hid; perhaps he’d feel fear instead as the door replaced itself. If he felt anything right now, his face showed no trace of it, molded into an impassive and placid smile.

The room he was now in was as plain as the previous one, but it was certainly more sinister with its simplicity. The walls were made of smooth stone just like the tunnels that lead to it, yet where those were well-lit, there was only a simple redstone lamp overhead to cast an eerie orange glow on him. 

To the left of the room was a set of bookshelves, the books tucked neatly in place. To the right were five planter beds, each one growing a different type of fungus on top of different types of blocks. 

It was what was across him that completed the room: a giant glass screen that covered almost the whole wall. He stepped towards it, past a chair that laid overturned on the ground. He stood straight, shoulders squared as he placed his palm flat against the cold material.

_What is this place, xBCrafted?_

A quiet hum sounded throughout the room before the screen turned on with a bright flash of light. He didn’t flinch or shield his eyes, nor did he seem dazed once the light died down. The screen showed the image of an eye, blinking slowly before the feed separated into thirty panels, each one showing a different area, a different base, and a different hermit working. 

_Who are you watching, xBCrafted?_

His eyes scanned through the videos before reaching upwards and tapping on one panel in particular. The feed enlarged while the other videos disappeared, showing TFC mining away in his caves, diamond pickaxe hitting stone. He tapped the screen again and soon he could hear what the man was doing. He was muttering as well, although his words were easily understood.

_“—I need just a little bit more iron. Enough at least to make an anvil. How much would that be again—”_

_Why are you listening, xBCrafted?_

He moved languidly towards the left of the room, hand reaching out and plucking books out. They all looked identical, the same brown leather cover on each one. There was no name nor title embossed on the front, no way to tell one book apart from the other. He picked a total of three books, clutching them easily with one hand. With the other, he deftly picked up the overturned chair and righted its position. He sat down on it, leaning back as he placed the books on his lap.

He opened one of the books and took out a quill, twirling the feather around between his fingers. He tapped the soft tip against the cream-colored paper, watching TFC with focused eyes. The man was still mining, still murmuring his plans. He wrote down a single word on the notebook in reply, the movements of his quill fluid and smooth.

** PLAN **

_What are you planning, xBCrafted?_

The corners of his lips quirk upward in a shadow of a smile.

_What have you done, xBCrafted?_

**Author's Note:**

> So what is xB doing? Who knows...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :>>


End file.
